Private Heaven
by MidKnight Rider
Summary: Trouble with Tribbles,missing scene. Spock and Scotty, nonslash


It was the noise that drew him, noise he didn't need Vulcan hearing to be aware of. He approached the open door of Engineering with a certain amount of trepidation.

Engineering was usually a place of crisp serenity with nothing even a hair out of place. Today it seemed to be chaos. Pieces of a mock warp drive were all over the place, engineering crew in red overalls were scrambling madly in what looked like every direction and Scotty's highland voice was thundering off the bulkheads as he paced back and forth like a caged lion amid the chaos. Fortunately Spock had spent enough time around the Chief Engineer to recognize the tone of voice as one of complete satisfaction, which was not to say that Spock understood why humans so often sounded furious when they actually were quite pleased. The last Spock had known Chief Scot had been confined to his quarters. But here he was in his own private heaven, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Ye canna put a warp drive together the way ye slap food on a plate at a buffet!," the engineer's accent was quite thick at the moment There has t' be a _system_ and ye have to _know _the system. Why in the gods' name are ye' starting on the stabilizers when ye've got nothing ready to bloody stabilize yet?"

Frantic crewmen scurried around with tools and calibrators, hefting pieces into place with brute strength where necessary as their Chief continued to rant, "Nothing can be done with the stabilizers until the magnetic systems are in place and _where_ are the magnetic systems? Still waiting for the equalizer plates? I gave ye laggards _ten_ minutes for those. The bottle should be in place by now, shouldn't it? Well then where's the bottle? Me old granny could have those together by now and she's blind! Which one o' ye dimwits was supposed to check the status on that dilithium crystal? I can see the hairline crack in it from here! Do ye want to be the ones who blows this ship to wee bits?… Oh, didna see ye there, sir," his voice dropped to a normal tone when he saw Spock hovering by the door in an attempt to stay out of the way.

"Problems, Mr. Scott?" Spock asked.

"Ach, no," Scot said dismissively, "Just a drill. But if they aren't going on shore leave I best find something to keep this bunch occupied, or they'll be the devil to pay for their mischief. Brilliant bunch, wouldna have less on the Enterprise, aye? But ye have to keep them moving. Just a drill to keep their hands busy. What if they have to do this at some point with only the impulse engines online and a pack o' Klingons spitting disrupter fire at our stern? They better learn to do it now. They'll be done in _15 minutes_… _or there better be a good reason that they aren't!_" The last he shouted over his shoulder and the rushing and clatter got much more frantic.

"Weren't you confined to quarter, Mr. Scot?" Spock asked, softly.

"Aye," and Scot looked just slightly sheepish," I think the Captain knew I was enjoying myself too much, catching up on journals."

Privately, Spock thought that Scot was enjoying himself too much even back on duty.

"I notice you also have the computers shut down?" Spock observed.

"Well who's to say we'd have computer backup? No bloody good to have a crew that can't think for itself, aye?" Yes, Scot was definitely enjoying himself just a little too much, Spock thought.

"I trust Engineering would still be available in the event the Klingon cruiser shadowing our orbit around the Space Station become hostile?" Spock asked.

"Aye," Scot said, fiercely proud and defiant suddenly, "The _Enterprise _can handle fleet of cruisers, Klingon or no. These lads and lassies will be done in _FIVE MINUTES!_"

Spock had not thought it was possible for the engine room crew to move any fast but they did. The scrambling reached epic proportions.

Spock started to exit Engineering but a sudden question occurred to him.

"Mr. Scot. What _is _the next drill?"

"Space suits, sir. What if we have to do this in a vacuum with the hull breached?"

Spock fought the amusement that seemed to rise up unbidden in his throat and threaten to pull at the corners of his mouth. He had no doubt it made it as far as his eyes, despite his best efforts.

"Carry on, Mr. Scot," he said, softly.

As the doors were swishing closed behind Spock, Scot's voice bellowed out, "_Three minutes! _Here now, what the bloody hell are you doing with _that?_ De Salle! For the love of _god,_ man, I expect that kind of nonsense from the newbies! Be careful with that! It was made in _Aberdeen_ …._" _


End file.
